


Residual Plot

by badomens444, Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Trouble in a Black Hoodie [6]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluri, M/M, Schrodinger's stripper, occupation bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badomens444/pseuds/badomens444, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alternate ending to the 'Trouble in a Black Hoodie' set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Residual Plot

Author's Notes: I only wrote like the last 3 pages worth of this. If you read the first ending by Suspicious Popsicle, you'll know where it starts to get different.

Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

\-----------------

Cell phone in hand, Flynn stood outside Yuri’s door Monday morning and hesitated with his finger over the call button. He hadn’t seen or heard from Yuri since they’d parted on Saturday. His calls and texts had gone unanswered. Yuri was obviously still angry—hell, _Flynn_ was still angry. His jaw still ached from that punch and it popped funny when he yawned. 

He could have just left Yuri to stew, could have broken things off and found himself a relationship with someone less prone to going right off the deep end at the slightest provocation. However, as often as he went over his objections, he couldn’t bring himself to end things between them. There was this feeling of exciting potential between them that made him understand for the first time in his life what people meant when they talked of a couple having great chemistry. Verbal sparring or physical, Yuri rose to the challenge Flynn presented and challenged him, in turn. Beneath his laid back exterior, Yuri was a passionate person, and Flynn loved that about him. Sure, he wasn’t happy about the way that passion had erupted but he could understand where he’d been coming from. Yuri took pride in his strength, Flynn knew that. Looking back, he could admit that his argument had been poorly made. It didn’t excuse Yuri’s reaction, and it didn’t excuse the way he’d been giving Flynn the silent treatment for two days, but it made his anger understandable.

Just the anger, not the actions. Yuri owed him an apology, no doubt about that. While he was certain that they had something worthwhile beginning between them, he wanted to see just how Yuri was going to handle patching things up after this fight. If he couldn’t admit that he’d been in the wrong, well….

Well, they’d deal with that if it happened. Steeling his resolve, he called Yuri.

Much to his surprise, the phone picked up immediately. Rather than the sleepy grumble he would have expected, however, Yuri’s voice came deceptively breezy through the speaker.

“Hey, what do you know? I made it here safe and sound, all by myself. See you in class.” The line went dead.

Flynn sighed. All right, maybe he deserved _that_ , but not everything else. He’d been concerned for Yuri’s safety and, though he could admit he hadn’t expressed that concern in a particularly diplomatic fashion, Yuri’s childish response had been entirely out of proportion. He scowled at his phone, shoved it back into his pocket, and went downstairs to wait for the bus.

\-----------------

Yuri didn’t look at him once during class. Flynn knew this because of how often he glanced over to check. Statistically, if Yuri were sneaking glances at him as well, they should have caught each other at it. It put him in mind of the first day he’d really been aware of Yuri over in his seat by the door. Back then, though, there hadn’t been this awkward tension between them, and Yuri had eventually acknowledged his presence.

As soon as they were dismissed at the end of the period, Yuri was up and out the door. Still irritated by his attitude and not wanting to bring their fight out into the open, Flynn didn’t bother hurrying after him. He was quite surprised, then, when he stepped out into the hall to find Yuri loitering just next to the door, apparently waiting for him. 

They walked in silence to the coffee shop. He kept expecting Yuri to speak up and offer an apology or make some cutting remark, but none came. He fell behind as Yuri took the stairs at his usual jog, and hung back while he ordered. When Yuri turned around with two drinks and headed straight for an empty table, Flynn followed. It was going to take more than a coffee to smooth things over between them.

Yuri slid the steaming cup across the table. Not sure what message accepting it would send, Flynn didn’t touch it. He waited for Yuri to break the silence. 

“How’s your jaw?” The question was posed in the same offhand tone he used to ask about classes he’d missed. If there was any concern in him, it didn’t show. He seemed to be only asking out of polite interest or idle curiosity.

“Been better.” 

“Heh. Guess so. I wasn’t really in the right frame of mind to be pulling punches.” He smiled faintly, but Flynn wasn’t about to make light of it and the expression faded out as quickly as it had appeared. Rather than make another conversational overture, Yuri sipped at his coffee concoction. It seemed it would be up to Flynn to get their talk started.

“About what happened. I know you can handle yourself in a fight. I just meant that most people aren’t going to know that by looking at you.”

Staring somewhere off to the side, Yuri set his drink aside and rubbed the back of his neck. A little frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know. I shouldn’t have hit you. Sorry about ignoring your calls. Except for that one where you said I was acting like a five-year-old. I’m not sorry I ignored that one.”

Waiting until he glanced up, Flynn caught and held Yuri’s gaze. “I was worried about you.”

Again, he looked away. His frown became a grimace. “You don’t need to worry about me,” he muttered.

He didn’t really think he could help it, though he wasn’t about to admit that out loud. “Don’t you think it just makes more sense to discourage trouble before it starts, rather than having to defend yourself?”

“I think you should drink your coffee.”

“Two people are less likely—”

“I’m not telling you where I work. I don’t want you coming down thinking you have to look after me.” He took a swig of his drink and turned sideways in his chair. “You’re gonna sign up for geology next semester, right?”

Flynn sighed. Fine. If that was how Yuri wanted to play it, he would just figure it out for himself.

\------------

Wednesday morning saw Flynn standing once more outside the door to Yuri’s apartment. He wouldn’t have come after last time, particularly with so much they had yet to talk about, but as they’d parted ways on Tuesday, Yuri had looked at him and asked if he’d see him in the morning. There had been something about the way he’d cocked his head to the side or the way his voice had contained an odd mix of hesitancy and hopefulness that made Flynn relent. Yuri wanted to see him. He wanted to see Yuri. The rest could get sorted out later. 

He knocked tentatively. He’d been told Judy would be expecting him, but it wasn’t as if he was friends with Yuri’s roommate. She let him in with a smile, though, while an alarm clock was sounding from down the hall.

“Glad you’re here. If you wouldn’t mind waking him up so that he’ll turn off that alarm of his…?”

Automatically, he started for Yuri’s room, but a thought held him back. He wasn’t making any progress about Yuri’s job as far as trying to talk to _him_ went. However, maybe if he asked Judy he could at least get the name of the place and go have a look. Just a look. He might stick around to walk Yuri home if it was in a particularly bad part of town, but for his own peace of mind, it would be good to know that his boyfriend wasn’t in nightly danger of being attacked on the street. He was just worried.

And curious, that licentious part of his mind put in. Definitely interested to see what sort of routine Yuri would have…because there _would be_ a routine, probably several, and all with him in something considerably more eye-catching than that coverall black hoodie.

He tried to push the thoughts away, wishing he could do the same with the blood he felt coloring his cheeks. Standing before Judy just inside the door, he felt suddenly incredibly awkward and burdened with the need to know.

“Do you…ah…. Yuri hasn’t told me where exactly it is that he works. I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind…?”

She studied him for a moment, one hand against her cheek, as if wondering what to do with him.

“He hasn’t told you? What a thing to keep secret.”

“No, um, I know _what_ he does.” It was entirely too warm beneath the weight of her stare and he wished he could shed his letterman jacket. “I just don’t know the name of the…bar.”

She smiled at him and turned away, taking up a seat on one end of the couch. “Sorry. If he hasn’t told you, it really isn’t my place to do so.”

“Please. He told me how he hurt his hand. I just—” The sound of the alarm shut off briefly with a clatter. Yuri had apparently woken up enough to throw something at it. Quietly, Flynn hurried to finish. “I just want to be sure he’s okay.”

Her smile got a bit wider, but her response remained disappointing. “You’re sweet. Go on. You’d better be sure he’s actually getting ready.”

Defeated, Flynn left her there and made his way to Yuri’s room. The door was open a crack, so he let himself in, stepping carefully through the clutter.

Yuri was not a composed sleeper. He lay sprawled on his back in a tank and sweats, one leg hanging off the bed, the sheets twisted around him and his hair fanned out around his head in a dark tangle. For a moment, Flynn stood over him, caught between concern and anger and the impulse to crawl on top of him and kiss every last inch of exposed skin. He compromised with an affectionate caress of his cheek, smiling as Yuri nuzzled into his hand, before he ripped the covers away mercilessly.

“Time to get up.”

Groaning softly, Yuri didn’t even bother to open his eyes. Raising one hand lazily, he tapped his lips, a request for a kiss rather than a demand for silence. Flynn fell for it. He leaned down and, as soon as their lips met, Yuri’s arms were around him, yanking him down. Flynn toppled onto the bed, right on top of Yuri who gasped at the impact, then squirmed until he was comfortable, snuggling as much into Flynn as the nest of his bed. There was a smile on his face as he sighed happily.

“Nothing going on in class today, right?”

How did he not know what effect he had on Flynn? His sleep-roughed voice, the warmth of him held close, even his scent all combined to drive rationality to the deepest recesses of Flynn’s mind. He ducked his head to kiss beneath Yuri’s jaw.

“No. Just lecture.” 

Beneath him, Yuri stretched, arching his back, pushing their bodies closer. His hands slipped beneath the padded weight of Flynn’s letterman, plucking ineffectively at his tucked in shirt. Though deprived of skin-to-skin contact, Flynn still felt little thrills pass through him from those searching touches. He nipped lightly at Yuri’s neck, just below his ear, and felt the shiver that passed all the way through him.

“We should skip,” Yuri mumbled. “Gonna be late anyway.” 

He ground against Flynn, making it clear that an issue had been raised that would need to be attended to before leaving. He shifted again, pressing just so, and Flynn felt a jolt straight down his spine. He threw his head back with a gasp but, before he could sink back into Yuri’s embrace, he caught sight of something on the windowsill over the bed.

It was a business card, mostly black, with two back-to-back silhouettes in spotlight: one male, one female, both wearing bunny ears. Before he could think about it, consider the action and its ramifications, Flynn snatched up the card, tucking it swiftly up his sleeve. His heart was hammering, more from the thought of how angry Yuri was going to be with him if he’d noticed than from the excitement he’d been building up a moment before. Sitting back on his knees, he looked down on Yuri spread out beneath him, clinging to him still in his waking desire.

“We need to get going,” Flynn said. His voice was mostly steady. He was breathing a little heavy, but that wasn’t any big surprise. 

Yuri curled up on his side, moaning petulantly, but he hauled himself up and slogged to the bathroom. He hadn’t noticed Flynn’s theft.

Once he was sure Yuri wouldn’t catch him, Flynn slid the card free of his sleeve to take a closer look. The simple white letters above the phone number read: “The Bunny Guild.” Hurriedly, he pulled out his wallet and slipped the card inside. He knew for sure that Yuri was working Friday night. It wouldn’t be difficult to go down and check the place out. He would just take a look, just make sure it wasn’t a neighborhood where walking alone at night was a big no-no. He just wanted to be sure that Yuri was safe. That was all.

His traitorous id spent the rest of the day feeding him suggestive mental images of what, exactly, Yuri’s job might entail.

\-----------------

It was eleven o’clock on Friday night and the city was steeped in sepia, a trick of the yellowing streetlights that shone in place of the sun. Squint hard enough, and the streets were transformed into an old photograph. Neon signs added patches of garish color that destroyed the illusion, and it was those signs that Flynn’s attention alighted on as he walked. He checked the directions on his phone again, though he knew he wasn’t lost. He ought to be coming up on the building any moment.

Across the street, he spotted his goal. A neon blue outline of the bunny boy silhouette from the business card he’d found blinked on and off, alternating with a pink bunny girl. Directly beneath the sign was a small black awning bearing the club’s name over a tinted glass door manned by a bored-looking bouncer. Flynn stopped and pretended to be checking something on his phone as he watched the entrance. Every now and again, people—men and women—would walk up to the door, present ID, and be allowed in. For the most part, they didn’t look like the drunken degenerates Flynn’s imagination had populated Yuri’s place of work with. The street itself wasn’t particularly run down, and there was a decent enough amount of foot traffic to suggest that it was a reasonably safe area. Unsure of what he ought to do next, he loitered there, watching.

He’d told himself that all he meant to do was make sure Yuri wasn’t stuck working someplace dangerous. That was supposed to be his only purpose. He had only meant to check out the area—very quickly—then go back home and let Yuri have his privacy. Most of his privacy. What he wasn’t giving away to strangers from the stage inside the club.

Flynn stamped down on that thought. Yuri’s job was only any of his business as far as concern for his safety went. That was his only worry. If he’d thought Yuri was the type to cheat, he wouldn’t have begun dating him in the first place.

But what constituted cheating? There wasn’t supposed to be any touching allowed in places like this, but what about tempting, showing off? Did any of that count as cheating? He couldn’t help but think of the desirous eyes of strangers trained on Yuri’s body as he bared himself to them. Why had he chosen a job like that? Did he enjoy it? 

It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, right? If he stayed to the back, Yuri would never even know he’d been there. He could just slip in, take a quick look, and leave.

He shouldn’t. He _really_ shouldn’t, and he knew it. It wasn’t about whether he trusted Yuri or not, it was about whether his curiosity would get the better of him in the face of Yuri’s express wishes that Flynn not show up where he worked.

But…if he didn’t bother Yuri, if he just stuck his head in for a few minutes and took a look around and left without anyone the wiser, what would be the harm? Yuri hadn’t ever actually apologized for sucker punching him. This would make them even.

Rationalizing all the way and hating himself a little for it even as he knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave without a quick glance inside, Flynn hurried across the road. He presented his ID, unable to even look the bouncer in the eye as the man stamped his hand. He looked at the little bunny-shaped ink mark as he entered, turning its meaning over in his mind. Too young to drink, but not too young to watch people undress before a crowd of strangers. Not too young to be one of those strippers. He and Yuri were the same age. It was a strange and uncomfortable thought just then and he pushed it away as he emerged from the long, black paneled hallway, past the ATMs stocked with two-dollar bills, and into the club proper.

The volume of the music had been steadily rising as he walked and now felt nearly strong enough to compel the rhythm of his heart to follow along to its beat. No wonder Yuri’s alarm clock couldn’t wake him. He was probably half deaf from working in such a racket.

A bar stretched along the back of the room, black like the walls and floor and ceiling. The counter was lit from beneath by strips of pink and blue neon. Glass shelves mounted in front of mirror panels glowed in those same colors, flooded with light from LEDs as the white fluorescents from above lit up their sparkling contents. The whole area behind the bar was a shining oasis of glass and light amid darkness, crowded with people and facing the real focus of the club: the stage.

The Bunny Guild catered to a wider target audience than Flynn would have expected from a strip club. The trunk of its ‘T’ shaped stage that extended out into the middle of the tables was twice as wide as either side of the top, and divided down the middle with mirrors suspended from the ceiling. One side was done up in pink, from the lights and tabletops to the glittering curtain that hid the far wall. The other side was decorated in blue. Two strippers danced and strutted and teased to the beat of the music, one male, one female, each on his or her own side, with his or her own audience. Flashes of color and movement could be seen between the mirrors, but, for the most part, the club was divided and to each his—or her—own.

Yuri wasn’t on stage. Flynn wondered if he’d missed him, if he would come up in the rotation soon or again or at all. He’d only meant to come into the club for a minute, but he found himself gravitating to the bar, and he snagged a stool as soon as one became available. Every so often, his eyes strayed helplessly back to the blue-lit stage. It would be strange if he left too soon. The bouncer might take notice, might mention something about it where Yuri could hear. Better to stay for just a little while. If Yuri came on, he would leave. Right after he’d seen that everything was okay.

The lights from the stage behind him flickered and darkened, pulling his attention backward. A sudden switch from one obnoxiously loud thump of the music to a different one sent his head spinning. The bar of lights on the stage started to flicker with the music, slow at first, but flared as the music took over, and revealed a new dancer on each of the stages.

The pink-lit stage held none of his attention, his eyes focused squarely on the blue and the long, lean form there, dressed in such a way that Flynn almost didn't recognize him.

Far removed from the black hoodie and ripped jeans or even the sweats Flynn occasionally found him in, was Yuri, clad in a way that showed far more skin, and was far more tantalizing than the simple dip of his lower back or starkness of his neck.

Dark, thigh high stockings clung to the leanly muscled curves of Yuri's legs, leading the eye up to a skirt that was immodest to say the least. It was barely a short, pleated ruffle of red and black plaid, and the thin white midriff button up with a plaid tie above it was tied in a knot above the expanse of Yuri's pale abdomen. This was not something Flynn had ever expected to see him wearing. Even his hair was plaited loosely on either side of his face, thin, silky braids ending in little red ribbons. Flynn nearly missed the black bunny ears atop his head that completed the strange look.

Yuri was smiling, long and thin and so seductively that it made Flynn's head spin further and his knees wobble. From the waistband of his skirt, Yuri pulled a lollipop, a long, rainbow colored one, twisted in the shape of a unicorn's horn. He wasted no time teasing the audience and Flynn with it, stroking his tongue along its surface and pursing his lips around its tip.

How anyone could even come to these sorts of clubs without getting unnecessarily aroused in one way or another was beyond him, but he tried not to think about the uncomfortable tightness of his pants and focused instead on the stage where Yuri began his dance.

The pole on the stage before him was a mere tool, and he used it. Sliding along its curved edges, he loosed the ribbons in his braids, letting the tresses fall back into place as he flung the twists of ribbon out into the audience. The tie came next, dropping to the stage and Yuri stepped over it, circling the pole.

He wrapped his hands around it, pulling himself up. Twisting his legs around it, he let his hands work instead at deftly pulling off the shirt and leaving it too on the stage. He spun and twisted and defied gravity with the strength of his body and the stability of the pole. Yuri made this an art. A very arousing art.

Flynn couldn't squash the taste of jealousy that rose in his throat. He couldn't escape the idea that the eyes of all these people were glued to Yuri, to his boyfriend, tracing paths across flesh that Flynn wanted. The money that washed across the stage made it worse, but Yuri was ever smiling, ever seductive, ever winding his way around the pole and winding up his audience. Flynn was caught up in that too, and tried to let that wash away the tinge of envy. He couldn't deny that Yuri was /good/ at this. And in the end, even if he was Flynn's boyfriend, it was his own life to live, and Flynn was left with only his concern for Yuri's safety. They would have to talk about this, but he could probably learn to live with it. It had perks of its own after all.

The skirt fell last while Yuri was tangled toward the top of the pole, spinning and siding down its length. A wolf whistle ripped through the audience, deafening even with the volume of the music. Flynn didn't know what to call that bit of fabric that was the only thing Yuri wore other than the matching dark tights, but its small size and formfitting nature left very little to the imagination and made Flynn almost unbearably hungry.

More money showered the stage as Yuri's gyrating slowed and finally stopped as his whole body dipped low, flush with the stage in a split that looked almost painful. But he slid out of it easily and the lights went dark over the stage again. When they turned back on, Yuri and his clothing and his earnings were gone.

Flynn turned back to the bar, stunned silent, although his body was trembling with need and excitement. He ordered a soda and guzzled it down as soon as the bartender brought it. The carbonation burned his nose, which effectively pulled him out of his trance and back to the real world.

His boyfriend was a stripper. He was still torn about just how 'okay' he was with that.

His apprehensions were washing away. Yuri seemed to enjoy the work. He was certainly _good_ at it. The audience liked him and hooted and hollered, but seemed to keep a respectful distance from the stage. It really all boiled down to whether or not flaunting and teasing like that could be considered cheating, and to the issue of Yuri's safety. The audience that seemed respectful enough now could quickly change in a darkened alleyway. They needed to talk about this, but he didn't know when Yuri would be available. He was even supposed to have been here this long.

"What are you doing here?" That voice pulled him backward to meet Yuri head on, face reddened and probably not simply through exertion. The outfit from before was gone, replaced by jeans and a t-shirt.

"I--uh--I just... I was worried about you."

Yuri sighed, pressing a hand to his face. "You idiot. Get out of here."

"Wait--!"

"If you're so worried, come back at three thirty."

It was safe at assume that was when the club would be empty, so Flynn slunk out of the club and back home, at least for now.

\--------------- 

Three thirty and the sepia streets were empty save for the last stragglers stumbling drunkenly out of the local bars, off to call taxis or ambling to the bus stops. The Bunny Guild's sign was off and its lights dim. The pre-dawn air was chilly, driving back the drowsiness that lingered in his limbs, after he had somehow managed a brief nap. The buses would stop running soon. He hoped that Yuri was almost done and that he hadn't gone angrily home before Flynn made it back.

But a black hooded figure slipped out of the club and his brief fear was gone. Yuri ambled up next to him with a bit of a yawn. The exciting costume from earlier was gone, and he seemed normal, despite his hair being a mess.

"Hey," he said with a second yawn.

"Hey.... so, um...."

"Yeah. I'm a stripper."

He tried to tread cautiously. "Can I ask why?" It could be a dangerous and demeaning line of work. Why would anyone want to?

Before Yuri could answer, a bus puttered up and its door shuddered open to let them in. Yuri hopped on first, paying two rounds of tolls and Flynn followed mutely to the empty back of the quiet bus.

"It's good money. It's pretty fun. It's a lot of work though. Gotta pay for school and an apartment somehow." 

Flynn wanted to ask why Yuri hadn't told him, but as Yuri's fingers curled against his, the question was lost and he let it be. Yuri had to have his reason, and maybe one day Flynn would hear it. But they still had to discuss how their relationship was going to move forward after this.

Yuri slumped against him as the bus ride continued, drifting in and out of sleep, snoring softly against Flynn's shoulder. His own drowsiness had vanished by now, but he sat still and held Yuri's hand the whole way back to his apartment. He even walked him to the door, where Yuri proceeded to tangle up around him. The hunger he had been holding back, the need he had tried to crush came rushing back to the surface. They kissed, hotter and hungrier than ever before and Yuri's sleep roughened and warm voice whispered.

"'Fraid I can't let you go. It's too dangerous alone this time of night."

"Mm. Much too dangerous."

"You should come inside."

"Yeah. I should." And Flynn said what he had been wondering about for the past few hours. "Any chance of a private show?"


End file.
